


i used to call you “hey,” but now you’re “baby”

by londonromance



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 Route Spoilers, Angst, Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Pining, female pronouns for m/c, lovesick hacker, spoilers about unknown, very slight ones tho bc im only on day 8 of his route lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8116561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londonromance/pseuds/londonromance
Summary: Whenever he chances a look at the feed and sees any movement at all, he can feel his fingers slow and his breath catches on its way from his lungs to the endless space between them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i cannot believe this is a thing i wrote jshdjgl its not proofread because i'll lose my nerve if i stare at this any longer and im too in love with seven and what else is new
> 
> i've finished yoosung's route and i'm in the middle of seven's so there's some very slight spoilers for seven's route in this!!
> 
> side note: i have the tiniest playlist for seven's route bc this tsundere mofo is causing me Stress so i literally just listened to bigbang's let's not fall in love on repeat for this whole thing. also the title's from kyung park's ordinary love!

Seven wants to tell her everything.

He doesn’t think he deserves as much as he’s already been given. She’s been so open and whole and lovely and everything she ever says to him is on an endless loop in his mind.

There are days where the only light he gets is from his computer screen, endless lines of code staring back at him. But when it gets to be too much, he feels himself switching screens. He’s been strictly forbidden from even glancing at his left monitor, where he’s kept the CCTV feed up as a precaution, regardless of what Vanderwood says. He admits it was generous enough of her to even allow such a distraction to be so visible. So long as she hears him pressing keys, she hardly even notices the milliseconds between the numbers. She’s good, but not as good as he is.

It’s really just mere moments but whenever he chances a look at the feed and sees any movement at all, he can feel his fingers slow and his breath catches on its way from his lungs to the endless space between them.

He could just leave. He could fire up one of his collectible beauties and leave Vanderwood in the dust and go see her.

But seeing her would make it real and making it real means it would be less fun. It was all fine, so long as he was just being cheerful 707 in the chatroom, a character more so than a real person. Sure, some of it was really him – he was playful beyond measure and always up for a joke. But everyone seemed so surprised whenever he took the mask off and was serious about anything. She was the only one who took all of his sides in turn. Even though he had known the other members longer, she didn’t seem phased whenever his split personalities showed.

This was safe, though. There’s so much space between them and she always knows when to play along and be his 606, his Captain in camaraderie. Without missing a beat, she also knew when something was wrong, even when he could hide it so well from everyone else.

It’d be worse if he thought she would be a permanent fixture in his life. (She was already on her way, made a space in his heart and mind, carved out room where he thought he didn’t have anything worthwhile to give and he just-)

He pauses and the emptiness of the room overwhelms him. He exhales and grasps the cord of his headphones, twiddling them between his fingers. He tries to steady his breathing but this is just what she does to him. He’s at least resigned to the fact that his lungs would be incapable of normal operation around her, at the mere mention of her, at the thought of her…

He closes his eyes. He used to be a machine, so efficient and immaculate. He keeps the stakes in the back of his mind, the reason why he’s even good at this in the first place, why he had to hide in a boiler room for three days, suffocating on his own breath.

It isn’t voluntary. He has a very selective skill set, cultivated out of need and broken promises. If this is all he can offer the world, he was going to be damn well good at it. And despite the secretive nature of their work, he was known for being the best. His work helped people. Sometimes it was the right people and sometimes it wasn’t. He tried not to think about it too much, but it was hard to have an on and off switch for his morals.

He swore to never bring anyone else into this life, his life. Saeran already would’ve been more of a casualty than he was willing to sacrifice. It was a miracle that he let himself get as far as he did with the RFA.

He realizes he’s stopped breathing, the headphone cord twisted and gnarled between his fingers. He lets his head fall onto his desk with a graceless dull thud.

It’s gotten so hard to be a person lately.

He hears the slight scuffle of shoes and angles his head so his cheek is against the cool metal of his desk, glasses askew but still letting him view the CCTV feed despite the awkward angle.

He sees her carrying a bag of take-out into the apartment. She shuffles to take off her shoes and her long brown hair falls like a curtain, obscuring her face. But it isn’t like he doesn’t know what’s there.

Dark brown eyes, with the slightest upward angle when she fashions her small lips into a half smile, the left corner always raised a little more than the right. Her bangs brush just so into her eyes and sometimes when she’s frustrated, he can hear her blow them out of her way and he can imagine them fluttering back into the same place they were before.

At least, these are the things he tells himself everyone knows about her. There’s nothing special about staring at someone’s profile picture for too long. Everyone does it. It didn’t make him more or less interested in her than the rest of the world. He liked to tell himself these things even when his heart went a beat too fast tracing her smile with his eyes, his own lopsided grin matching hers.

Her fingers went to push her hair behind her ear as she did an awkward hop skip to avoid tripping on her shoes. Though the only obstacles in the apartment were the ones she made herself, he noticed she always stepped just a little too far back after slipping off her shoes and it made her look like a little bunny who didn’t know how feet operated.

He groaned and covered his face with his sleeve. He was being reduced to a stalker. Even when he had a crush on that girl from the convenience store, he was never around that much to notice such small habits. There was no way he would let himself live that down.

(She never wore her nametag and he remains disappointed that he never found out her name, his nerves always catching in his throat while he paid for his and Yoosung’s snacks, so much so he barely managed to thank her before running out of the store.)

Seven heard a pause in her footsteps and chanced a glance back at the screen. He jumped ever so slightly when he noticed her wide eyes directed at him (the camera, not him. He had to correct himself over that particular mental mistake all the time).

He didn’t even dare to blink.

She tentatively raised her hand and gave an attempt at a wave at the camera. Her smile was shy but sweet and her eyes were curling into the warmest brown. His heart was pounding so loud that he only just made out her saying hi.

“Hi, Seven!”

He felt his temperature rise and he knew the most ungainly bright red blush was staining his cheeks right now. People said hi to him all the time, the _ajumma_ at the corner store said just as much when he went to pick up a case of Dr. Pepper this morning. He needed to get a hold of himself.

But she wasn’t done.

“Look at what I got for us!” She unwrapped her bento and opened the lid, letting him see the contents of what looked to be a very fulfilling lunch.

Good, he was always asking her if she ate and he felt more content knowing she was going to soon. He always felt guilty, knowing it was a burden for her to get out of the apartment to get food, especially in an unfamiliar part of the city where they basically trapped her in a stranger’s apartment. She was so well-natured about the whole thing, but he worried so much about her.

“You wanna try some?” He quirked an eyebrow as she juggled holding the bento and opening a pair of disposable chopsticks. He watched her grab a piece of sushi and held it up to the camera. “Open wide!”

He buried his head into his arms and made a muffled noise of frustration. _Why was she like this?_ Didn’t she know what she was doing to him?

“Ah, you don’t want it? Okay, then,” she said, pouting just a bit before bringing the sushi to her own lips and making a noise of contentment. “Seven, you don’t know what you’re missing!”

…She was really going to be the death of him.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go eat. See you soon, God Seven!” She waved once again and then she disappeared from view, taking her soft smile and delicious bento with her.

He allowed himself to wallow in his thoughts of how much he wanted to share a lunch with her, maybe she’d even get him to consume more than chips and soda for a change. He’d make the sacrifice of eating something other than the combination godsend Honey Buddha Chips and Dr. Pepper made if it meant sitting across from her and hearing her sunny voice in person.

He propped himself up and rested his cheek on his hand, exhaling loudly. He knew he shouldn’t even consider it, especially since he knew Vanderwood would be checking in on him at any moment, but he was reaching for his phone and dialing her number before he could stop himself.

“Seven, did you get my message? Or should I send it again in code? Do you prefer morse or binary?”

His smile was involuntary but he let it happen, the corners of his lips picking up steam to a surefire grin.

Seven couldn’t know for sure, but he was almost positive the sun shined brighter when she said his name.


End file.
